


~ Done ~

by Highlander_II



Series: Take Care [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-23
Updated: 2003-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:09:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highlander_II/pseuds/Highlander_II
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xander is having second, third and fourth thoughts about this <i>thing</i> he has going on with Spike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	~ Done ~

**Author's Note:**

> Fic-let written as a 'Secret Santa' gift for [robintcj](http://www.livejournal.com/users/robintcj/) at the [BtVS_Santa](http://www.livejournal.com/community/btvs_santa/) LJ. It follows canon through the end of season 5, keeps with canon, but with a little twist. This piece takes place just after the events of "Hell's Bells".

_Xander rolled over, snaked his arm across the naked chest of the vampire beside him and planted a soft kiss on the exposed shoulderblade before resting his head against the strong neck with a quiet sigh._

_The vampire rolled his head and nudged Xander with his elbow. "Harris," the vampire groaned, "what have I told you about cuddling?"_

_"But, it's cold," Xander contested, moving himself even closer to the bleached vampire._

_The vampire growled. "This is nuts. Why are you even here?"_

_"What?" Xander sat up, hurt. "Huh?"_

_"You don't even like me. You don't want your friends to know anything about this, but you don't go home to your fiancée at night." The bleached vampire sat up, the blanket sliding down to his waist, exposing one slender hipbone. "Why are you here?"_

_Xander swallowed hard, trying to moisten his mouth. "B-because I wanna be." He blinked and made sure he was breathing._

_The vampire shook his head. "You are completely hopeless, Harris. Go back to sleep." The vampire settled himself back onto the floor, his head on the make-shift pillow._

_"No," Xander said firmly. "I should go home."_

_"Yeah, you really should. Because if Anya ever finds out about this, she'll have both your heads," a stern feminine voice sounded from the door of the crypt._

_Xander's eyes grew wide. "Oh no." _No, no, she can't know about this. No. This is a dream. She's not here. Please no.

_"Yes, that would be a pretty good response," the female at the door stated. "Xander, you should really get dressed and go home. I'll beat him up for you." She pointed at the vampire._

_"No. I... I mean... no, don't beat him up." He turned to see the vampire still sleeping next to him, completely unfazed by the entire exchange._

_"But it's what I do, Xander. I beat up the demons that hurt my friends."_

_"He hasn't hurt me. How did you even know I was here?" Xander started to stand up, but remembered he was naked and remained on the floor, his hip pressed against the backside of the blond vampire._

_The female shook her head. "It doesn't matter how I knew, I just knew and now I'm going to help you. This is wrong, you know that. He's evil." She pointed at the vampire again. "Evil. And now I'm going to take care of it."_

Xander sat up, pressing his hands to his head, trying to still the shivers through his body. He took a deep breath and looked to either side - the bed was empty, but for him. He sighed heavily, remembering who used to sleep there, next to him, warm and snuggling, every night. "What the hell did I do to screw up my life so bad." He shook his head and rolled himself out of the bed and made his way into the shower.

****

"You had the dream again, didn't you?" Spike asked from the green armchair facing the television as Xander pushed the crypt door open and stepped inside.

"Yeah," he responded softly.

"Why are you so worried about this?" Xander saw the end of a bottle tilt up over the bleached head barely peeking over the back of the chair, then descend out of sight again.

He pushed the crypt door closed and made his way down the stairs. "I'm not. Not really."

Spike craned his neck and glared over the back of the chair. "Uh huh." He turned back to the television - which was not on, odd for Spike in the middle of the afternoon. "There's no impending nuptials to worry over, so no Anya wondering where you are. So, what are you worried about?"

"Everyone else finding out," slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

Spike sighed. "They're not gonna find out, mate."

Anger began creeping through his body and he snapped, "How do you know that?"

The vampire growled and leapt out of his chair, then stalked across the crypt to stand directly in front of him. "I just know," Spike said plainly. Xander felt the long, slender fingers of the vampire's hands fold over his shoulders.

"I want to believe you," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

"Xander," Spike began and Xander looked up, into the blue eyes of the man in front of him; the man who rarely spoke his name - always called him 'mate' or 'Harris,' never 'Xander,' but he had this time and it made his knees weaken and his stomach flip, "if they do find out, mostly, they'll just be pissed at me. Buffy'll beat me up and think I did something to make you come here." The bleached vampire shrugged. "It's no big deal."

Xander frowned. "And you don't have a problem with this? Because I do. I don't want to lie to my friends, but I can't tell them about this."

"Are you ashamed of me?" Spike asked with a hint of a smirk on his face.

"No." He lowered his eyes. "Scared."

"Of what?"

"Everything. Nothing. I don't know." He stepped away from the slender fingers on his shoulders - the comfort and security - and began pacing the crypt. "What if I just want something that's mine? I don't want them to know because I like having a secret. Knowing something they don't know. Passing secret message glances at you while we're on patrol or researching at the Magic Box - or, well, Buffy's now. What if I like it that way?"

Spike shrugged again. "Fine by me."

"How are you so calm about everything?"

"I'm old. Hell, Xander," he did it again, "I just don't care what they think. Nothing I do ever suits any of 'em anyway, so, sod 'em all."

"These are my friends we're talking about here," he defended.

"Yeah. Fine. Whatever. Can I just bloody kiss you now? All this talkin's makin' me antsy."

Xander nodded and started forward. He met Spike halfway, well sort of, Spike moved faster than he did, and shoved his hands into the blond curls at the nape of the vampire's neck, pulling his mouth to his own. There was a taste of blood and beer on the vampire's tongue, but he savored it. It was a taste unique to Spike and it was comforting, something he knew was always there. Spike was all hands - rubbing and touching and groping and tickling. "Hey now," Xander complained against Spike's lips. "No tickling."

Spike pulled away, a pout on his face. "You're no fun."

"I'm a lot of fun, just no tickling. Please?"

Spike's face softened and he nodded, pulling Xander close, kissing his eyelids, his nose, his cheeks, his mouth, his chin and, finally, bending in to lick and kiss at his neck. He sighed and moaned as Spike's cool hands began to work their way under his shirt and over his skin. "Take off your shirt," Spike whispered in his ear and stepped back just enough to allow him to pull his shirt over his head and drop it to the floor. "Sit in the chair." Spike pointed to the faded, green armchair and he complied; Spike not far behind him.

"What are you do...," he stopped when Spike pressed a finger to his lips.

"No talking." Spike pulled his finger away from his lips and grazed his hands over his chest and arms.

He leaned back in the chair, relaxing under the touch of his lover's hands. He wanted to speak, to talk, to say things to Spike he had only ever thought when he was alone, but Spike was persistent about the rules. No talking meant no talking. Moaning, groaning and other sounds of pleasure were, however, allowed, and even encouraged. "Oh, dear, God!" he cried - not breaking the rules - as Spike bent his head to take him into his mouth. _And just when the hell did he get my pants open?_ Tongue, teeth, lips, fingers, all caressing and stroking him, drawing him closer to the edge, pulling him over until he felt like he was falling into an abyss of pleasure. He wanted to speak, to say something, but his breathing was too erratic for that to be possible, so he just let his head fall back against the chair until he calmed a bit.

Spike was still on the floor, between his legs, but had pulled himself close enough to kiss and lick at the exposed, sweaty skin of his chest. He pushed his hands through the blond hair on the vampire's head, loosening the gelled strands, eliciting a growl that vibrated over his sensitized skin.

"Spike," he managed to say, finally and the vampire growled again. "Yes, I know, no talking, but I think you're wearing too many clothes."

Spike sat back on his heels and glared at him. "You completely ruined this, you know that? Why'd you tell me that? You could have just pushed me down and _taken_ m'clothes off, you nit."

He stared at the man on the floor - kneeling, his hands resting on his thighs, a scowl on his face. Delicious. He smiled. "I could still push you down and take your clothes off." He reached out with his left foot and dragged the toe over Spike's leg, toward his groin.

"Yeah, but it's not the same. Too much talkin' now."

"Spike, we can still have sex if we've been talking. It's not going to suck all the fun out of it. Trust me," Xander said, moving his foot further up Spike's thigh.

"Is that foot of yours on a mission? Or is it lost?" Spike asked, narrowing his eyes, but not looking down at his legs.

Xander shrugged. "Maybe both? Take off your shirt, evil vampire guy."

Spike arched an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, mate, because I'm always takin' orders from humans."

He shrugged. "You take them from Buffy." He caught the startled expression on the vampire's face and wondered exactly what was behind that. "Something wrong, Spike? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No." Spike pulled his faded black T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. "Is there something you want to know?"

"Is there something I need to know?" He dropped his foot back to the floor.

Spike shook his head. "Not a thing. What now?"

He just stared at the vampire kneeling on the floor for a long moment. Not moving, not speaking, not anything. Spike stared back, equally as silent. Xander watched him, looking for any signs of nervousness or deceit. He saw nothing. Just a bleached, horny vampire, waiting impatiently for the next move or step or whatever.

"You remember Christmas, Spike?" he asked, tucking his penis back into his pants, smiling at the sullen look on Spike's face as he watched.

"Well, yeah. It wasn't that long ago. What about it?"

"That thing you called a 'present'?"

"Me?" Spike asked with mock insult in his voice.

He smirked. "Shut up. The part after I removed the bow."

Realization slid over Spike's face like gently rolling clouds and he smiled. "Yeah. I remember that, mate. Fun night, if I recall."

Xander blinked at the vampire. "I still owe you for that."

"What?" Spike's eyes widened. "No. You don't have to... I mean... um...," he stopped and swallowed.

Xander felt a sly smile creeping over his mouth. "Oh, no. You're getting payback for this. And you're going to make a solemn promise to..."

"Oh, come on, Xanderrrrr," Spike drawled out the 'r' like he did when he used that really bad American accent to try to fool Riley.

"...give me a present like that every year."

"Bloody hell."

"Take off your pants. Eh, get rid of the boots too."

Spike blinked once, slowly and rocked to his feet, then bent over, slowly, to unlace his boots. He toed them off and unfastened his jeans, then slid them over his hips and let them fall to the floor. With his left foot, he kicked them aside casually.

Xander eyed the pale, naked vampire from head to toe, then motioned for him to turn around. "Slowly." Spike complied, making a complete circuit as slowly as vampirically possible - not very, for Spike anyway. Xander frowned. "I said slowly. Do it again." Spike turned again, slower than before, but not slow enough; Xander made him turn again and again - four more times before Spike got it right. "Much better."

"Thank God. I was getting dizzy."

He glared at the bleached vampire who just stood there, three feet away, hands at his sides, hips canted a bit to the left, hair in disarray. Xander smiled. This was going to be fun. "I don't suppose you have an apron, do you?" he asked and watched Spike's face change from casual observance to ponderance. "Do you really have to think that hard about it?"

"No. Just tryin' to figure what's goin' on in that head of yours and if I wanna tell you the truth."

"Keep trying. And the truth would be best. Answer my question."

"No. I don't."

He knew it was true. Spike had a hard time lying to him anymore. He frowned. "Too bad. Oh well, I can have fun without it." He rose from the chair and walked to a back corner of the crypt. He knew Spike was watching, wanting to know what was going on. _Keep wanting. I'm sure I can surprise you - at least once._ Finding what he was looking for... _Never thought Anya's gift choices would come in handy._ ...he returned to the chair and held the object out to Spike.

"And just what, exactly, do you expect me to do with this?" the vampire asked with disgust.

"Sweep the floor, stupid," Xander replied, thrusting the broom into Spike's chest.

"You're kidding right?"

He shook his head and grabbed Spike's wrist, shoving it toward the broom handle. "Sweep. This place is filthy."

Spike snatched the broom and stamped it into the floor - not very effective since the broomstraw made little noise against the concrete. "Of course it is, you nit! It's a crypt!"

"Yeah? Well, if you expect me to keep coming back to this crypt, I suggest you clean it." He sat in the green chair and crossed an ankle over the opposite knee.

Spike began to grumble incoherently, or ramble in Fyarl, as he put the broom to the floor and started shoving dust around with it.

"Don't sweep it all under the rug, either," Xander ordered and picked up the beer Spike had been drinking earlier. "Hey! Ow!" he snarled at the crack to his head from the broom handle. "Any more of that and I'll come up with more housework for you to do."

"Don't have a rug. And put down my beer."

He glared over the back of the chair at Spike before turning back to the blank TV. He put the bottle in his hand to his nose and sniffed, then wrinkled his nose and set the bottle back on the table. The table he had brought from the apartment so there would be a place to put the drinks when they watched TV - usually _Passions_ because Spike's TV didn't pick up much else. _You'd figure an evil vampire would at least steal cable._ He closed his eyes for a moment and listened to the soft swishing-scritching sound of Spike sweeping and his mind wandered back to that first night... the first time he had come to the crypt, just to see how Spike was coping with Buffy's death...

*****

_"Looks like you're taking this real well," Xander commented, lifting a broken hat stand with his foot, afraid to venture much further into the madness of Spike's home._

_Spike glanced up from the bottle in his hand. "Do you have something useful to offer or did you just stop by to piss me off?" the vampire snarled._

_He blinked, hard, and tried to step backward, only to be stopped by the door behind him. "Actually, Dawn sent me. She wanted to know how you were doing, but Willow and Tara won't let her come out here. And from the looks of things," he motioned around at all the broken furniture, weapons and glass; torn fabrics, blankets and clothing covering the floor of the crypt, "it's probably best."_

_"Yeah." Spike took a long pull from the bottle, kicked aside a few things and stepped forward. He stopped a moment, a hand to his head, then began kicking a path to the door. "C'mon in, mate. I'd offer you a seat, but...." The drunken vampire waved around at the crypt as he turned and walked back to the cleared area he had occupied moments before._

_"Oh, thanks." Xander made his way, cautiously, down the stairs and into the path. "Do you... need... anything?" he asked. Buffy's death had hit them all pretty hard, but Spike seemed to have been hit the worst - or he just took it harder than the rest of them had._

_"...fine," the vampire muttered._

_"Not really," Xander disagreed with Spike's assessment. "You should talk to somebody."_

_Spike burst into maniacal, drunken laughter that bounced and echoed around the concrete walls of the crypt. "Who'm I supposed to talk to, mate? You?" He snorted and laughed again._

_"Why not?" Xander asked. "I'm here and God-knows no one else should be subjected to this. This is disgusting, you know that?"_

_Spike narrowed his eyes and wobbled on his feet, throwing one arm out to the side to catch his balance. "So get me a maid."_

_Xander sighed. "All right, Spike. What the hell is it that has you so upset? Buffy died? Yeah, we all know that. We're working through it. It's hard, but we're managing. Not sticking our noses in a bottle like you. It's been two weeks, Spike. I'm not telling you to get over her or her death, just to stop moping about it. We need your help." He could not believe he had just said that, but it was true - the demons were getting rowdier and the vampires were coming out of hiding; it was too much for the Scoobies, alone, to handle._

_"Sod off, Harris! I'm not helping you nits with anything." He threw the bottle against the far wall, where it shattered into tiny pieces._

_"Why? What did we do? Why is now different?" Why did he care? He was only here because Dawn had asked him to stop by. What the hell was going on?_

_Angry, snarling, eyebrows knitted, Spike fired off a question that hit Xander so hard he thought he saw stars: "When was the funeral?"_

_Xander's mouth fell open - they had all forgotten. No one had even suggested telling Spike. "Oh... my... God." He had no idea what else to say. He wanted to kick himself and the rest of the Scoobies. Spike was nowhere near being his best friend, but he had as much right to be at Buffy's funeral as anyone else. _Dammit!

_"Yeah, mate. Big help that."_

_"Spike. We didn't... it was so crazy. Finding a way to... without the wrong people finding out about it... it was..."_

_"Crazy. I get it. So crazy that you handled EVERYTHING except telling ME!" Spike shoved Xander, sent him skittering across the floor. He landed in a heap at the base of the crypt stairs. He looked up, rubbing his shoulder and saw Spike roiling on the floor, clutching his head in pain. Then he heard a long, slow howl, followed by a groan and a whimper._

_"Spike?" He heard another groan, this one chased by a snarl. "Are you all right?"_

_Spike raised his head, scowling, fists clenching at his sides. "Leave me the hell alone," he growled, his voice low, menacing._

_Xander pushed himself to his feet and, slowly, walked toward the vampire sitting on the floor. He knelt beside him, tentatively reaching a hand to the leather clad shoulder. "Let us help you through this. Let me help you."_

_"Why? You hate me," the vampire growled._

_"Yeah," he agreed, "but Dawn wouldn't forgive me if anything bad happened to you. Plus, we could use some muscle on patrol. Giles just isn't what he used to be." He tried the joke angle - something had to soften the vampire's foul mood._

_Spike snorted. "How very altruistic of you."_

_He shrugged. _Okay, the Giles joke didn't work. Either he's really upset or I'm losing my touch._ "I have my moments." He looked into Spike's face and saw all the pain and hurt and anger and frustration and could not stop the hand he had placed on Spike's shoulder from sliding along the vampire's tense neck, to his face, and drawing him close enough to press his lips against those of the solemn vampire. It was only for a moment and Spike made no attempt to withdraw, but he felt something._

_Xander backed away, slowly, blinking and feeling his heart racing in his chest. He watched to see if Spike was going to do anything, but no. The vampire just stared back, his mouth closed, eyes opened, chest not moving. "I... I think I should get back to Dawn. Tell her you're fine."_

_"Yeah. You do that. Lie to the Little Bit," Spike baited him. He wanted to slap Spike for it, but opted for another tactic_.

_"What if I help you clean up this mess?"_

_Spike quirked an eyebrow at him, obviously not understanding Xander-speak enough to get the idea._

_"I help you clean up your crypt; you don't tell Dawn you're not okay," he clarified. He thought about that for a moment, then asked himself aloud, "And just how is that a fair deal?"_

_Spike shrugged. "Fair enough to me. Do I get to tell her you snogged me?" Spike asked with a wicked grin._

_"Not unless you want to become _part_ of the crypt. You got a broom?"_

_The vampire gave him a cross 'What do you think' look._

*****

Xander opened his eyes and looked around the crypt for the naked vampire with a broom. Cleaning Spike's crypt the first time had taken nearly four hours - probably longer - not the day Xander had stopped by. He had told Spike he would help, but it would be a week or so. Actually, he had forgotten he was going to help clean up Spike's crypt, having had to deal with all manners of demons and vampires and Willow dropping the bomb that she wanted to try to resurrect Buffy.

He looked around the crypt some more from the chair, then got up and walked around the still dusty crypt. "I know I didn't close my eyes for that long, Spike!" he yelled when he did not see the vampire and his broom anywhere.

A bleached head popped over the lip of the hole in the floor and its owner snapped, "What?"

He scowled at the disobedient vampire. "You are supposed to be sweeping," he chastised.

"I was," Spike said. "Had to get the sodding dustpan." He held up the object in question as proof.

Xander sighed. "Fine. Are you done yet?"

"Can be if you want."

"Please."

The dustpan clattered to the ground as Spike scrambled through the hole and stalked across the floor. Suddenly, Xander wished he had had an apron to make Spike wear, and a grin spread over his face. The vampire stopped inches away and glared at him in confusion. "What's with the smirk, mate?"

Xander shook his head and let the vampire press into him, ravage his mouth, taste his skin. If Spike was anything, he was great with the kissing. He slid his hands over Spike's arms and back, lingering over taught muscles and rigid bones. Spike's hands were at his waist, fingers pushing between the waistband of his jeans and his skin, then sliding to the front to unbutton and unzip. He felt the cool hands on his skin as Spike pushed his jeans to the floor. The vampire cursed at the sneakers still laced in place on his feet, then pulled them off and yanked the jeans out of the way. Spike rose to his full height and moved in close, pressing hips together, chests, lips, whatever areas of exposed skin could meet.

"Spike," he said in a breathy whisper.

"Shhh," the vampire countered and led him to a small area behind the concrete bier on one side of the room. There were blankets and pillows all over the floor in a comfortable-looking, but haphazard pile. It was quite inviting. They knelt on the blankets and Spike kissed him again, a little more aggressive - tongue and teeth and hands pulling him closer. He could hardly breathe, his heart racing. He wanted to speak, tell Spike this was not fair, that he was supposed to be directing this, telling Spike what to do. But, he was at the point where he just did not care. He gained control of the kiss and pushed Spike onto his back. Maybe he cared a little.

"Hey, watch it, mate."

"No talking!" He scolded, pressing his lips against the vampire's throat, sucking, licking, gently nipping. He sent his hands dancing over the cool skin beneath him, his mouth following as he kissed and licked his way down Spike's chest. Spike moved and wriggled beneath him, trying to direct where he should go - where he wanted him to go. He moved beyond Spike's hips, without lingering there, and started the kissing and licking again at Spike's ankles.

Periodically, he would glance up at Spike's face and catch the pained ecstasy there - the desire he was creating - and smiled inwardly as he continued to please and torture his lover.

Lover. There was a word he had never thought he would use in conjunction with the name 'Spike'. A year ago he would have almost rather have staked the bleached vampire than even have to say two words to him. But now. Now was different. Buffy had died and been resurrected and, while she was gone, they had fought side-by-side and had continued to do so once Buffy had returned. Life had not been simple since Buffy's return - especially since he had been sleeping with Spike while also still being engaged to Anya. There was some part of his brain still trying to rationalize how he thought that had been okay. He still loved Anya, but he loved sex with Spike too. Now, the wedding was off. Anya had skipped town, but Spike was still here. A strange, bleached vampire constant in his royally fucked up life.

_How do you do it, Spike? Manage to be hated by every one of my friends - hell, even by me - and still have so much influence on everything? Or, at least on me or something. Or maybe my brain shut down about an hour ago._

He raised his head from kissing the inside of Spike's left thigh. "Spike, why are we doing this?"

"Thought you said no talking?" The vampire seemed very disappointed the attention to his body had suddenly ceased.

Xander scowled. "Changed the rules. So why?"

Spike propped himself up on his forearms, looking down at him. "Because we're horny buggers?"

He scowled at the vampire again.

Spike sighed. "It's nicer to have someone else around to get you off than havin' to do it yourself? Hell, Harris, I don't know. You came to me."

"Right. And you don't like me, so why with the sex?"

Spike shrugged. "I'm a vampire. We like having sex. Doesn't much matter about who has which parts."

"You're sick."

"And your mouth is six inches away from a vampire's dick. What's your point?" Spike asked with a leer.

He shook his head and pushed himself up so he was sitting on his knees. He opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to voice his thoughts.

"This that bit about your mates again? Look, Harris... mate... Xander... leave whenever you'd like. I'm not makin' you come here or do anything. I'll be a little sad if you take off - it gets right lonely here and no one else is much beatin' down my door, 'least not for sex - but I'll understand."

Xander took a deep breath. "So, all of this, like the last year, has been what? Just for fun?"

Spike's turn to scowl. "If that's what you think, then why would you come back? And why do we have to have this conversation now?"

"Why not? And I don't think that. I just...."

"Don't want your mates to find out. I know. They won't. Not from me."

"I know."

"So, how they gonna find out then? You gonna send a singing telegram?" Spike cocked his head to one side.

He laughed. "Not my first choice."

"You done whining? 'Cause I wanna have sex. I'm impatient."

"Yes you are and I'm not really ready to pick up where we left off yet."

Spike pouted, complete with puppy dog eyes.

"Forget it. I'm not caving."

Spike sighed. "Maybe not, but you are naked." He took a glance downward. "And hard. You just gonna walk away like that?" That sinister leer appeared on the vampire's lips again.

Xander took an involuntary look toward his groin as though he needed to see for himself that Spike had not made it up, then he looked back up at the still leering vampire. "Nice try." He watched the vampire shift his hips and move his legs farther apart - a nice attempt at enticing. "Nope. Not gonna...." He swallowed hard and tried to keep his mouth closed. He pushed himself backward, landed on his butt on the cold concrete, then scrambled back onto the blankets and fell on his side, his head near Spike's knee.

"What's your next trick?" the vampire asked with an amused smile. "Harris, anyone ever tell you...?"

"That I'm a big klutz? Yeah. When I'm not at work, I drop just about everything," he supplied before Spike could insult him.

"Well, no. I was gonna say 'cute when you're nervous.'" Spike gave him a flash of a smile.

He got to his feet slowly. "I think I need to go."

Spike shrugged. "Suit yourself, mate."

He scrambled into his clothes, trying not to look at Spike, still reclining on the floor, his legs spread casually, and yanked on his sneakers. "Bye, Spike," he said and left without tying his shoes.

His internal dialogue was running faster than he could catch it during his walk back toward the apartment.

_Why am I doing this?_

_What was I thinking?_

_Didn't Spike have a thing for Buffy?_

_Is he over her? Or is he using me as a placeholder until she wants him?_

_What would my friends think if they found out?_

_Would they understand? Would they be angry?_

He heard footsteps approaching behind him. He quickened his pace, trying to get out of the cemetery and into the open where, at least, there were streetlights. The footsteps seemed to quicken also. He did not want to start running - it was too far to run all the way back to the apartment - and if there was a demon or vampire in pursuit, a good head start would only be a moderate advantage. Not to mention, his shoes were still untied - tripping on the laces while trying to run away from a vampire or demon - not high on his list of things to do this evening.

"Aw damn," he muttered when he heard his name being called by a familiar, British voice. He stopped and turned around with a sigh, waiting for his pursuer to catch up.

"Bloody hell, run away will ya?" The bleached vampire stopped and feigned panting for air - an unsuccessful attempt to garner sympathy.

"What do you want?" he asked, disinterested. He was, however, impressed with Spike's ability to dress quickly - including getting his boots on and his duster properly settled on his broad, strong shoulders. _Gah! Stop that! Don't want to like Spike right now._

Spike blinked and tilted his head to the left, pressing closer, turning slightly, pressing forward again, causing him to back up until he bumped into a tree. The vampire's hands reached out and pressed against the trunk of the tree, blocking his escape.

"No, Spike. I'm going home." He tried to duck under the strong arms locking him in, but Spike moved them when he tried. "Spike," he sighed, exasperated.

Spike leaned in, face close to his, lips inching closer to his mouth. "Game face or human face?"

Xander blinked. It took him a moment to realized Spike had said something - asked him a question. "Uh," he stammered in response. "Why?"

"Game or human. Just pick one."

"Uh, human, I guess. Now what?"

The response to his question was not verbal, but Spike pressing cool vampire lips to his warm human ones. He let Spike kiss him for a moment, then gently pushed at the vampire's chest. Spike pulled away from his mouth, but remained close.

"What do you want, Spike?"

Spike leaned in again, mouth near his ear this time. "You."

Xander sighed. "I told you. I'm going home."

"Because you don't want me or because you're afraid of your mates?"

"I'm not afraid of them," he countered defensively.

"Just of what they'll think of you if they know you've been sleeping with me."

Xander averted his eyes from the penetrating blue ones staring him down.

"Right then. What would you say to Buffy, let's say, if you found out she was sleeping with me?" Spike asked.

Hell of a hypothetical. "I'd kill you," he responded as he looked up, directly into Spike's eyes.

"Excellent choice. Now, what would you _say_?"

"She would never do that, so this is pointless."

"It's not. Let's just say she would and she did. What would you say to her when you found out?"

"I don't know. I'd be angry."

"Why?"

He averted his gaze again. "I don't know. Because I don't want my friends hurt. Plus," he pointed at Spike, "vampire."

"So it's just me then, is it? If Buffy was with Angel again, you'd be fine with that?"

Xander shook his head. "No. Angel falls in the 'vampire' category. And I never liked him."

"Well, we have that in common. So, why'm I shaggable and he's not?"

He pondered that question a moment. "Safety?"

"Huh?"

"Safety. Just because Angel has a soul, doesn't mean he would never hurt me. He _did_ hit me once. See, you've got that chip in your head." He paused, thinking again. "Not to mention, that whole brooding thing... so passé. Who would ever go for that?" He looked at Spike again and saw the confused expression on the vampire's face. "What?"

"Is that why you came back to m'crypt? The time after you were checkin' up on me for Nibblet, because you figured it was a 'safe' place to go and cheat on your fiancée?"

"Uh, no. I came back to see if your squalor was gone. Dawn wanted you to come to dinner. And Anya was still in the hospital then."

*****

_Xander approached the old crypt, Dawn's hand-written invitation for Spike in his hand. He read over it again:_

> Spike,
> 
> Dinner. Tonight.
> 
> Please come.
> 
>                 Dawn.

_"Why is she inviting him to dinner again?" he asked the night air. It gave no response, so he gave one instead, "So he won't be alone... at least just this once." That was what Dawn had said to convince him to walk this invitation over. Tricky little thing._

_It was not a holiday or a special occasion. It was just a Wednesday. An ordinary middle-of-the-week day. But, the important thing was, this would make Dawn happy. She wanted Spike to come to the house for something other than babysitting - which he claimed to loathe anyway - so, he would oblige. Not only that, but it was a reason to 'check up on the vampire' and see if the crypt was in any better shape._

_He rapped on the crypt door and waited. He tucked the invitation into his shirt pocket, then his hands into his pants pockets - black cotton, nicely creased. He was not sure why he had taken the time to have his clothes pressed - he had explained to Willow and Tara that Anya would like them that way when he went to see her. He did not even realize, until he knocked on Spike's door, that he may have, subconsciously, done it specifically for his visit to Spike._

_There was no answer to his knock, so he knocked again. Still nothing. He sighed and pushed the door open a crack. "Spike?" he called into the dusty semi-darkness. The place's appearance had not improved any. "Come on, Spike. I know you don't like living like this."_

_"Maybe I do," the slurred British voice drifted across the room from somewhere in the depths of the debris._

_"Spike, you stayed in my basement for a month. I can count the number of times I came home to a dirty place on one hand and still have fingers left over. Please."_

_A bleached mop of hair emerged from behind a cardboard box, followed by a scowling vampire face. "How d'you know t'wasn't your mum?"_

_Xander snorted. "Because she never came down to clean after I started paying rent. Just to do the laundry."_

_"So, what do you want me to do about it?" Spike asked rather abstractly._

_"About my mom or your pig sty?"_

_"M'place, you nit. Don't give a piss 'bout your mum."_

_"Cleaning it would be a start," Xander offered, not sure why that conclusion was such a leap._

_"Don't wanna."_

_He sighed. "Don't want to at all, or alone?"_

_"Help's nice."_

_"Shit. Come on, Spike. Yes, I'll help you clean up this mess." He stepped further into the crypt. The path Spike had cleared the last time was still there and he made his way along it to the box where Spike was 'hiding.' He put his hands on his hips and scowled down at the mostly-drunken vampire. "Help means you work too. Get up."_

_Growling and snarling, groaning and mumbling, Spike got to his feet and turned the box so it was open-side up, then dropped the empty whiskey bottle from his left hand into the box. "There. Helped."_

_"Funny. There's more. Don't stop now." He watched the vampire grouse and pout and make his way around the crypt, dumping things into the box. Once he was sure Spike was actually working, he began picking up larger items and hauling them outside; figuring better to do that now so Spike would have no excuses to get out of cleaning once the sun fully set._

_He walked back into the crypt for about the fortieth time - _Where had Spike found all of that junk and why had he brought it here?_ \- and stopped before he reached the last step. Spike was kneeling beside a box, tossing things into it, but he had removed his duster and T-shirt. Xander just stared for a long moment at the muscles occasionally twitching beneath the pale skin. Pale skin that did not glisten with sweat, but had a sensuality all its own. He wiped the back of his sleeve across his brow and opted for the snide comment, rather than the other thoughts in his brain: "Uh, you do know vampires don't sweat, right?"_

_Spike looked up, annoyed. "Yeah. Your point?"_

_"Why with the no shirt?"_

_"Don't want it dirty," the vampire replied coolly and returned to tossing broken weaponry into a box._

_He wanted to say: 'But it's already dirty,' but what came out of his mouth was a muttering of sounds that vaguely resembled words forming a sentence._

_Spike looked up again, this time confused. "Didn't quite catch that, mate. Wanna try again?"_

_Xander blinked. "Uh. No. Uh, any more of this big stuff need to go outside?"_

_"Just that box there, but you might wanna take your shirt off before you cart it out there."_

_"Why?" he spat, taking several steps away from Spike._

_Spike frowned. "Demon blood and other nasty things dripped all over it. 'Less, of course, you don't like that shirt," and back to tossing stuff into a box._

Love this shirt. Hate Spike. Take shirt off - not want demon goop on it. Spike look nice with no shirt. No, hate Spike. No think of Spike. Why talk like Tarzan? Brain broken._ He removed his shirt as his inner monologue turned primitive, then found a 'less dirty than the rest of the crypt' place to put his shirt before hoisting the disgusting box from the floor and hauling it outside._

_His internal monologue kept rambling the whole way to the dumpster and back, distracting him to the point where he almost ran into the door when he got back to the crypt._

_"Harris, you all right?" Spike asked when he returned from dumping the 'demon goo' box._

_"Fine," he lied. "What's left?" Okay, not a full lie, just a partial lie. He was mostly okay, just confused about where his brain was going with its thoughts about Spike. He tried a quick analysis, but only came to a conclusion that creeped him out a bit - attraction to the bleached, undead guy. _And that can't be. No. No. No. I hate Spike... But he has good abs... better than mine. He must work out. But, he's dead. Does he have to work out? Would he let me watch? No. No. No. Don't want to watch. Don't want Spike. And when did that even become a question?

_"Harris? Earth to Harris." Spike waved a long-fingered, pale hand in front of his face._

_He blinked and took a step away. "Sorry. What?"_

_"Think we're done. 'Less you have a broom."_

_Xander shook his head._

_"You sure you're fine?"_

_Xander nodded and stepped forward. He reached a hand out to Spike's face and stepped closer so their bodies were almost touching._

_"You want something mate?" Spike asked, eyes roving down, then back up Xander's body._

_He nodded again and pressed his mouth to Spike's, kissing fervently. He pushed his fingers into the mussed blond hair on the vampire's head and moved closer still, sliding his leg between the vampire's, wanting Spike to touch him - no go. He put both hands into the vampire's hair and held fast, still kissing. He wanted to feel Spike's hands on his body, but the stupid undead guy just stood there, barely kissing back. Saddened by the apparent lack of interest, he pulled away, his head bowed low. "That went not at all well," he mumbled and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants as he backed away._

_Spike stood where he was, arms at his sides, eyes still._

_He looked up at the pale, motionless vampire and narrowed his eyes. "Did I do something wrong?" he growled._

_Spike rolled his eyes. "How far you willing to take this, Harris? Cause, I can deal if you just wanna suck on m'face or if you wanna do a bit more just the once, then run off like nothin' happened. I just wanna know before we get started."_

_Xander swallowed hard. "W-what if I want something else?"_

_"Like what?"_

_"Meaningless sex to deal with emotional pain?" he replied with as much of his typical sarcasm as he could dredge up._

_Spike's face wrinkled in a slight frown. "Don't you have Demon Girl for that?"_

_"Hey!" Xander scowled, offended. "That's _my_ 'Demon Girl.' And we're kind of in a holding pattern, sort of an 'off' phase."_

_"Well, yeah, considering she's laid up in hospital."_

_"No. I meant before that. We had a talk and a thing and a fight-like thing. It was weird. And I feel really bad about her being hurt and all, but with Buffy...," his voice cracked, then stopped functioning altogether._

_"I know," Spike said, quietly, then took an unnecessary breath and continued, "So, what does any of this have to do with me?"_

_"Are you suddenly really stupid, or do you just want me to say something specific?" he snapped, yanking his hands out of his pockets and throwing them out to either side, then letting them fall back against his legs._

_Spike blinked, slowly. "Harris, if you want something, just ask."_

_"Thought I just did."_

_Spike just stared. Not at him, past him. "I just don't want there to be any misunderstandings," he finally said._

_"Spike, why are you making this so hard? I thought I was pretty clear. Do I need to spell it out?" The vampire nodded and he sighed. "Fine." He started unbuttoning his pants._

_"Harris, stop." Spike reached out and placed a hand on both of his. "You sure about this?"_

_He nodded and looked into the vampire's face. "Yes. Please. Touch me."_

_Spike leaned in, slowly, and pressed his lips against Xander's and slid one hand up to cup his cheek. It was all he could do through the raging lust not to grab the vampire and throw him to the floor. The kiss was so long and slow, he thought, for sure, he would run out of air before Spike let go. But, letting go was the last thing he wanted. When he had kissed Spike that first time, he thought it just an emotional reaction - a fluke, but when he saw Spike without a shirt and watched him move, he knew there was something else - he had no idea what, but the uncontrollable desire to lick the vampire's skin made him want to find out._

_He opened his eyes and stared at Spike as the kiss ended. He rubbed his hands over Spike's chest, feeling the hardened muscles tensing at the touch of his fingers. "Touch me," he breathed. Spike's hands on his body were cool but not cold as the vampire began to comply with his request._

_"Where?" Spike asked, hands on Xander's shoulders._

_He took a deep breath. "Everywhere."_

_Spike nodded. "I still wanna know how far you wanna go."_

_"Huh?" he asked, too busy relishing the feel of strong hands moving over his arms and chest to realize he was being spoken to._

_"You ready to take this all the way, or we going one step at a time?"_

_Xander swallowed and took several breaths. "Uh, can we start with steps?"_

_"Yeah. We can do that," Spike agreed and leaned in to lick the side of Xander's neck._

_He shivered and reached his hand up to hold the vampire's head against his neck. "There."_

_Spike chuckled and managed to move to his ear. "There are much more interesting places I can put my mouth, mate."_

_He stiffened and a small squeak escaped his lips. The vampire laughed again and he could feel the vibrations and movements of Spike's throat and chest. Lips and tongue and hands all over his upper body - arms, shoulders, back, chest - but it was not enough. He wanted more. "Spike," he moaned, his eyes closed. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes and looked down at the bleached vampire kneeling on the floor, looking up at him expectantly. "More," was all he could manage._

_Spike slid the zipper of his pants down with one hand, the other on his hip. He felt the vampire's hands slide under his pants and push them down toward the floor. Slowly, Spike removed his shoes, then his pants, then looked up at him again - waiting._

_He nodded, tried to speak. He wanted to tell Spike to take off his boxers and wrap those talented vampire lips around his dick. His eyes widened when he realized what had just passed through his mind. "Uh," he uttered._

_"Want me to stop?"_

_Xander shook his head and threaded his fingers into Spike's bleached hair, drawing the vampire's face nearer to his crotch. Every fiber of his being was screaming something different at him: _This is wrong. Spike's a guy. Spike's a _vampire_. Spike is sexy. Spike is doing something fantastic with his hands. Your shorts are around your ankles, nimrod. Spike's mouth is on your dick... and he knows what he's doing... and it's amazing... and he _so_ should not stop.

_He looked down at Spike, sucking and licking; massaging places he had not realized were in need of manual stimulation. His legs were beginning to feel like Jell-O; he clamped his hands onto Spike's shoulders, keeping him balanced as he reached what Anya referred to as 'happy land.' He liked 'happy land;' it was warm and exciting and bright - and Spike was there this time - which was new. Spike pulled away, ran his tongue over his own lips and blinked up at him. That was about the time his legs completely gave out and he sank to his knees, his head leaning against Spike's; his breathing fast and labored._

_"Spike," he breathed._

_"Shhh," Spike countered, placing light kisses against his neck and shoulder._

*****

"As I recall, I never got that dinner invitation," Spike snarled, tacking a hint of a smirk onto the end.

"Uh, yeah, and Dawn was not a happy camper when I got back. Not only did I miss dinner, but you hadn't gone with me and... let's just say I was on the teen-bitch list for a while."

"Xander," Spike said his name, speaking softly, "come back with me."

He shook his head. "No."

Spike poked his lip out in a pout and somehow managed to make the rest of his body look as though it was pouting too. _How does he do that?_

"Spike, I can't. I want to, but I can't. Not now." He looked down, avoiding Spike's eyes. "I have to think some things through before I talk to you again. I need to go."

With a nod, Spike backed away. "Right then." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his duster. "Take care of yourself, mate." The vampire turned on his heel and strode back into the darkness of the cemetery.

"Sure. I'll do that," he mumbled, stuffed his hands into his pants pockets and started toward home again.

End


End file.
